It Will Be Lonely This Lurlinemas
by Ultimate Queen of Cliffies
Summary: Not a songfic, though it was inspired by the song. Three-shot about Glinda and Elphaba's Lurlinemases a year, ten years, and thirty years after Elphaba and Fiyero left Oz. Fiyeraba, Glinda/OC.
1. One Year

**AN: Like I said on Twitter, I am not entirely sure whether this three-shot is happy or sad... it could be a companion piece to my one-shot _On the Other Side_, though you don't have to have read that to read this one.**

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><p><strong>One Year<strong>

Lady Glinda the Good was sitting by the fireplace, warming herself in the heat of the flames as she stared at the large, beautifully decorated Lurlinemas tree standing in the room. The top of the tree nearly reached the ceiling and it was perfectly symmetrical. Lights and decorations adorned the green branches, with a star on top and presents underneath – mostly presents given to her by the Ozians, to celebrate their leader. Her staff had placed them underneath the tree for her and it was entirely perfect. Back when she was still at Shiz, she would have been completely elated at having such a tree. In fact, Glinda thought, if the Galinda from Shiz could see her now, she would squeal in excitement at all her dreams having come true.

Glinda felt anything but excited.

Her new role as the ruler of Oz was hard, but it was satisfying. It was everything she had ever dreamt of. She loved being adored by everyone, even more now than she had been before. She loved being the one to give the people hope, to encourage them, and to present them with a role model. She was less fond of the political side of things, but she had advisors for that. She was getting by. Oz was slowly settling down, the Animals being re-integrated into society and the peace slowly returning after the Wizard's departure and Morrible's imprisonment; and Glinda was happy about that. Things were better than they had been in a long time… for the land of Oz, at least.

Glinda's personal life, she mused as she looked at the flickering flames and then back at the decorated and lit Lurlinemas tree, was much less happy.

She was alone. That was the truth. No matter how much the people loved her and how many staff members, advisors, and other people she had around her every day… in the end, she was alone. Her family was far away in Gillikin. She had no real friends left… not since Elphaba and Fiyero had died. She missed them every day. She thought about them every day. She tried to move on with her life, to open up to new people and make new friends; she tried to keep going, despite it all… but it was hard. It hurt. No-one could ever replace the only real friend she'd ever had and she knew that especially Elphaba's death would never stop being painful for her.

It was true, what she'd realised a year or so prior, when she had basically tried to force Fiyero into an engagement with her. Happy is what happens when all your dreams come true… but there was always a cost, and she'd paid the price. She'd gained a lot, but she had also lost some essential things – not just her best friend and the man she used to love, but also her innocence; a certain lightness she'd always had about her and that was nowhere to be found now. She'd grown up. Maybe that was it. And despite it all, she knew Elphaba would have been proud of the woman she was today.

She scooted over to the tree and picked up one of the presents, examining it from all angles. She sighed and looked up at the tree again.

"Happy Lurlinemas," she said, even though there was no-one to hear her. She opened the present and found a card inside. It said, _Merry Lurlinemas, my Lady Glinda_, and it was signed by a name she did not recognise. Underneath the card, in the box, was the present itself – a scarf of Vinkun silk in the emerald green colour of the City.

The emerald green colour of Elphaba's skin.

Glinda clutched the scarf to her chest and closed her eyes for a moment. She rose to her feet and moved out onto the balcony, gripping the railing tightly with one hand as she looked out over the lights of the Emerald City and took a few deep breaths until she had calmed down a little. She should really stop getting so upset at every reminder of her best friend. She was living in a green city, for Oz's sake – everything here would always remind her of Elphaba, but she had to steel herself and stop getting so emotional over it.

It took a while before she went back inside, closing the balcony doors behind her and carefully placing the scarf back underneath the tree.

She did not open any other presents that night.

Instead, she moved to her desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out two items. The first was a thin, silver necklace Fiyero had given her for their six-month anniversary, back at Shiz. The other was Elphaba's green glass bottle. She wound a silver ribbon around the latter and used it to hang the bottle in her Lurlinemas tree.

"Merry Lurlinemas, Elphie," she whispered, ignoring the single tear rolling down her cheek as she hung Fiyero's necklace on a branch next to the green bottle. "Merry Lurlinemas, Fiyero."

She hoped they were together, wherever they were.

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><p>Fiyero had always loved Lurlinemas. Weeks in advance, he had already started decorating their tiny cottage with tinsel, lights, and other Lurlinemas decorations; and a small, decorated tree was standing in the corner of their living room. He'd bought Elphaba a small gift – he wished they had money for more, but unfortunately, they didn't – and she had spent the entire day in the kitchen to make them a nice dinner. This would be his first Lurlinemas with Elphaba and he was looking forward to it… even though it would also be their first Lurlinemas since they had left Oz, and it was bound to get at least a little emotional.<p>

_Or very_, he thought when he turned around to look at his green girl. She was sitting in a chair by the window, her chin leaning on her fist as she stared outside with a wistful expression on her face.

"Fae?" Fiyero asked.

She sighed, apparently not even hearing him.

"Hey." He moved over to where she was sitting, crouching down next to her. "What's wrong?"

She looked up and blinked at him. "Oh…" She shook her head. "Nothing," she said, not at all sounding convincing. She made to rise. "I should go check on the pie."

He touched her cheek, stopping her movements. "Fae…"

She looked at him and then down at her lap. "It's just…" She heaved another sigh. "I miss Glinda," she confessed. "She used to make this big deal out of Lurlinemas, decorating our dorm room and squealing on about trees and lights and presents… and I miss her."

He cupped her face and kissed her softly.

"I know," he said, leaning his forehead against hers and looking into her eyes. "Believe me, Fae, I know." He heard her muttering the blonde's name in her sleep sometimes, and he saw the way she could stare into the distance, her mind miles away. He knew she missed her best friend. "I miss her, too. But –"

"It's too dangerous," she cut him off. "I know. You're right."

He pressed a kiss to her hair. "Why don't you go and open your presents? Present," he corrected himself, grimacing. "I'm sorry, Fae. I wish I could have gotten you more –"

She laughed softly. "Shut up, Yero." She slipped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for another kiss. "All I need is you," she said, smiling as she brought her hand up and trailed her fingers down the side of his face. "In any shape or form."

He turned his head to kiss her fingers. "Personally, I very much prefer this form over that of a scarecrow, though."

She tilted her head slightly to the side. "And why is that?"

He grinned a lopsided grin at her. "Because now I can do this again." He scooped her up in his arms, despite her protests. "And this." He kissed her deeply. "And, you know, this." He started carrying her over to the bedroom.

After they'd had dinner and unwrapped presents, they went to bed. As she was lying in Fiyero's arms, she looked up at him.

"Thank you."

He seemed a bit startled at that. "For what?"

She smiled and leant her head against his chest. "This was the first Lurlinemas in years that I wasn't alone," she said softly, "and one of the very few Lurlinemases in my entire life that I did not _feel _alone. So, thank you."

Understanding, he kissed her softly, running his fingers through her hair.

"From now on," he promised her, his bright blue eyes unusually solemn, "I will make sure you will never in your life spend another Lurlinemas being, or feeling, alone."

She kissed him again in reply and snuggled into his arms.

He drifted off quickly, but she never fell asleep that easily. There was always too much on her mind. Now, she found herself thinking about her blonde friend again.

She wished, more than anything, that Glinda could know about them. That she could somehow tell her the truth… but how could she possibly do that without endangering herself? Not to mention without endangering Glinda? Fiyero was right – the knowledge in itself would be dangerous for the blonde. She'd only have to slip up once to give herself away and then all hell would break loose for her. She was better off not knowing.

But knowing that did not stop Elphaba from still missing her best friend every single day.

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><p><strong>As always, reviews are very much appreciated :).<strong>


	2. Ten Years

**Ten Years**

"Take off your shoes!" Elphaba called from the kitchen the moment she heard the door open.

"Yes, Mum," Fiyero replied teasingly as he came walking into the room on his socks, kissing Elphaba's cheek before returning to the living room to stack the logs of wood he'd been cutting next to the fireplace. He got a fire going within minutes and appeared next to his wife in the kitchen, inhaling deeply. "That smells good. What is it?" He reached for a spoon, but she swatted his hand away.

"Pumpkin soup," she said. "And no, you cannot try it before it's finished. Go make yourself useful and set the table."

He pouted. "Aw, Fae…"

She raised one eyebrow.

He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and planted soft kisses on her neck. Feeling her relax, he grinned and nuzzled her temple. "See? I'm not so bad. Now can I try some soup?"

She turned to face him, eyes narrowed. "If you're not careful, you might just end up _in _the soup," she growled and he sighed and let go of her.

"It was worth a try."

She could hear the door opening again, followed by voices chattering and laughing, and she called once more, "Take off your shoes! Oz," she muttered under her breath, shaking her head as she returned to stirring the soup, "I hope they won't smear snow all over the living room."

Fiyero chuckled. "They're children."

"I know they're children," she said pointedly, "but _who _has to clean it all up?"

"Mama, Mama!" Six-year-old Bae came running into the kitchen, his face alight with excitement and with snow still in his hair. "We made a snowman!"

"And snow angels," his older sister added as she followed him, holding little Rosey by the hand. "Even Rosey made one, didn't you, Rosey?"

"I did," the small, sandy-haired girl said proudly.

Fiyero swept her up into his arms. "Did you now, princess? And was it fun?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "Yes!"

"Mama?" Nora asked, standing on her tiptoes in order to peer into the cooking pot. "What are you making?"

"Daddy, I think the fire is going out!" Bae said from the living room. Fiyero hastily put his youngest daughter down and hurried towards his son instead.

"Are we having cake tonight, Mama?" Rosey asked eagerly.

"Or pie?" asked Nora.

"Mama," Bae said, coming back into the kitchen, "when will we do presents?"

A long time ago, three children coming at her like that would have overwhelmed her completely and she'd probably have snapped at them because she didn't know what else to do. Spending years of raising said three children, however, had somehow enabled her to handle these situations quite easily. She'd never envisioned herself as a good mother and she never thought she could get used to small children running around the house, especially not small children that she was responsible for; but somehow, it had happened.

"We're having pumpkin soup, turkey with rosemary potatoes and vegetables, and chocolate cake for dinner," she replied, never stopping the stirring of her soup as she gently steered Rosey away from the hot stove and stopped Bae from stealing a piece of candy from the bowl on the table with a single glare. "We won't open any presents until tomorrow, you know that – we always save them for Lurlinemas morning. Stop that, Bae, I'm not letting you have any candy before dinner," she chided her son without even turning around to look at him.

He froze with his hand above the candy bowl. "How did you –"

"I know everything, honey, you should know that by now." She glanced at him over her shoulder. "Why don't you and Nora be nice and help Daddy set the table now? Dinner will be ready in a few minutes." She ran her hand over Nora's hair before giving her a gentle push. She and Bae both bounded off to find Fiyero.

"Mama?" Rosey asked. "Don't you want to make a snow angel, too?"

Elphaba laughed and stopped stirring the soup for a moment to give her daughter a hug and a kiss.

"Tomorrow," she promised. "Tomorrow, after opening presents, we'll all go out into the snow to make snow angels. You, me, Daddy, Nora, and Bae. Okay?"

"Okay!" Rosey beamed and Elphaba planted a kiss on the top of her head.

"Go play for a little while," she said. Rosey nodded and ran off.

They played board games after dinner and then all settled around the fireplace, where Fiyero told the children one of the stories they loved most: the one about the witch, the scarecrow, and the brave blonde woman who saved an entire land from its downfall all by herself.

Elphaba put them to bed after that and when she returned to the living room and joined Fiyero by the fire, he immediately pulled her into his arms.

"Can you believe now that there was a time when you did not want them?" he asked quietly in her ear and she turned to face him.

"I always wanted them," she said firmly. "From the moment I first found out I was pregnant, I wanted them."

"But if you hadn't accidentally fallen pregnant?" Fiyero asked.

She sighed. "I probably wouldn't have agreed to the idea," she admitted. "I was… scared, I guess. Scared of not being able to give them what they needed, because of… of who we are. Were. Because of our life. And I was scared that I wouldn't be a good mother. But I always _wanted _them."

"I know." He nuzzled her hair. "I guess that came out a little wrong. All your worries were for nothing, though." He cupped her face and looked down into her eyes. "You're the best mother ever."

She smiled and kissed him, and he happily kissed her back.

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><p>Glinda looked around the room, taking in the Lurlinemas decorations, the fire in the fireplace, the candles standing everywhere, and her husband playing with their two children; and she felt incredibly blessed.<p>

Cohvu had been a Gale Force soldier who had worked his way up to become Captain of the Guard eventually; and at some point, during the long, long meetings Glinda had with him about restoring the Animals to their former positions, protecting the citizens of Oz, and bringing peace back into the land, a spark had passed between them. She hadn't even noticed her falling in love with him until it had already been too late. By now they had been together for eight and a half years and married for a little under seven, and she was so incredibly grateful to have him.

She'd recognised a long time ago that what she and Fiyero had had was never really love. Their relationship had been born out of shallowness and comfort, with some friendship mixed in – it had been easy and they were both good-looking and popular, so why not? If she thought about that now, she almost laughed at herself back then. She'd been so vain. So… _stupid_.

Cohvu was different. What she felt for Cohvu could not be compared to what she had felt for Fiyero, or for any of the other boys she'd dated when she was younger. She loved him. She loved him for real and she hadn't had to think twice when he'd asked her to marry him.

They had started talking about having children together not long thereafter; and barely a year after their wedding, their little boy had been born.

The old Galinda would have been shocked, and possibly a little aghast, at having a boy instead or a girl. The old Galinda, however, was long gone by now; and _this _Glinda could only cry and laugh at the same time as she first laid eyes on her son. She'd felt like the happiest woman in all of Oz. Cohvu had been so proud of her, and he doted on his son.

Their second child, a girl, was born less than two years later and just like that, their family had been complete. All of Oz loved Glinda the Good's husband and adorable children just as much as they loved their leader herself, and Oz prospered under her guidance. After starting a family, she had left more and more of the actual ruling to her advisors and officials; but she always kept an eye on things, feeling responsible for the land and for her people. Things were going well.

When Cohvu had asked her what she wanted to name their son, she didn't have to think twice. First a boy, then a girl… in her head, it could not be a coincidence. Of course she couldn't blatantly name her children after two of Oz's most prominent criminals, but she had always been adept at making up nicknames; and so far, no-one had questioned Hero and Elphia's names. Instead they praised them, thinking they sounded beautiful and befitted the future ruler of Oz and his little sister.

Glinda always smiled a mysterious smile when people said that, not saying anything. No-one knew the truth and she'd keep it that way, but _she_ knew. That was enough.

Cohvu knew, too. It had taken her a long time to trust him enough to tell him everything, but he'd taken it wonderfully. Even now, he sometimes joined her when she went on a trip to Kiamo Ko, to light a candle for her lost friends. They'd told the children a vague version – they only knew that "Auntie Elphie" and "Uncle Yero" had been good friends of their mother's and that they were named after said friends, but that was all.

"Mummy," Elphia complained, tugging at Glinda's long skirt. "Hero stole my chocolate!"

"I did not!" Hero protested from the other side of the room.

Cohvu gave their son a stern look and Hero grumbled and put the chocolate back on the table, crossing his arms and sulking.

"Kids," Cohvu said, clapping his hands. "Why don't you light your candles now?"

Two little faces lit up and Glinda slipped into her husband's embrace for a moment as they watched their children picking up two candles and placing them carefully on the side table by the Lurlinemas tree. Cohvu let go of his wife for a moment to help Hero with the matches. Together, they lit the first candle.

"Merry Lurlinemas, Auntie Elphie," Hero said.

Cohvu smiled and planted a kiss on his son's head before helping Elphia lighting the other candle, mussing her hair when she chirped, "Merry Lurlinemas, Uncle Yero."

"Mummy," their youngest said as she climbed onto her father's lap, "would you tell us the story again?"

Hero settled on the rug in front of the fireplace and both kids looked up at their mother expectantly as she started telling them about the adventures of a ditzy blonde, a brainless prince, and a magical green girl at a university called Shiz.


	3. Thirty Years

**AN: Here is the final part of this three-shot. _On the Other Side _would have taken place between the second part and this one, so I think you can guess a little what happens now... :) I hope you like it!**

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><p><strong>Thirty Years<strong>

As Lori Tiggular sat by the fireplace, a smile on her face as she watched all the younger people together, she could not remember ever having a happier – or louder – Lurlinemas.

Of course, she had known Lurlinemases that had been just as happy. She remembered little Fiyero running into her and her husband's bedroom at the crack of dawn, shaking them awake and telling them in an excited voice that it was Lurlinemas morning, and that they had to get up _right now _to see what presents were under the tree. Those times were long ago, however; and when she had received the news that her only son had died, she didn't think she'd ever know a happy Lurlinemas again. When Hamold passed away as well, a couple of years ago, she had accepted the fact that she was going to have to spend the last Lurlinemases of her life alone.

And yet here she was, seventy-seven years old; and on her old day, she was celebrating Lurlinemas with the woman who could have been her daughter-in-law – the ruler of Oz herself – and her husband and children. And aside from Glinda, Cohvu, Hero, and Elphia, there were a few people there whose presence she had never expected to be in.

Her grandchildren.

Nora, five months pregnant, was nestled in the arms of her husband, Prazo. Bae was feeding his girlfriend bites of cake and young Rosey was talking and laughing with Elphia, the two having become fast friends within days of meeting one another. It was almost like they had always been there. Like there had never been a time where they were not a part of this large, happy family.

Of course Lori had been shocked to find out the truth. When she had first laid eyes on the three people standing in her hallway, she'd known without them having to say a word. They looked too much like him. She could see her son in all three of them, and though she hadn't understood how it was possible, she'd known instantly that it must be true.

She had been hurt when Nora told her the truth. She clearly hadn't realised how much Fiyero had truly loved the Wicked – _Elphaba_, she corrected herself in her head, and that he had been willing to give up everything for her. Not just his status, but his life. His family. She'd wanted to be angry with him for letting her and Hamold believe that he was dead, but she had to admit that there was a part of her that understood. Besides – it was over and done now. He'd died in an accident years ago, and Elphaba had lost a battle against Quoxian flu six years after that. They were both gone now.

But Lori still had her grandchildren.

Glinda had maybe been even more surprised – Lori heard she'd actually fainted upon hearing who Nora, Bae, and Rosey really were, though the blonde had always fervently denied that. All of them had, of course, immediately accepted the three into their family; and when they had decided to stay in Oz, everyone had helped arrange for things. Nora's husband, Prazo, had decided to settle in Oz with her, while Bae had found himself a girlfriend from Gillikin not long after moving to Oz. At the present time, Bae and Rosey were both living in the Emerald City, while Nora was living in the Vinkus with her grandmother, caring for her and meanwhile taking on more responsibilities – she was, after all, the rightful heir to the Vinkun throne. She and Prazo would rule the province wisely, Lori was certain of that. She just hoped she would keep living long enough to see their first child – her great-grandchild.

She watched as Rosey and Elphia tried to feel Nora's baby kicking, while Cohvu poured himself and the other men another glass of liquor. Glinda, who had been talking to Elphia's boyfriend, now looked up; and she and Lori shared a smile.

"Cheers," said Cohvu, looking around the room as he held up his glass. He looked at Lori. "To King Hamold."

"To Fiyero," Lori said softly.

"And to Elphie," Glinda added, glancing at the Lurlinemas tree, where the necklace and the green, glass bottle hung side by side, like they had every year since the last time Glinda had seen her friends.

"To Mum and Dad," Rosey agreed, sharing a look with her siblings. They all took a sip of their drink and Nora leant her head against Prazo's shoulder.

Lori could guess what they were all thinking – they probably missed their parents a lot. It must be awful, she mused, to be pregnant and to have to give birth in a few months without your parents there. She felt sad at the thought that Nora, Bae, and Rosey had to go through all these milestones without either Elphaba or Fiyero there; but at the same time, she was happy that those two had at least lived longer than she thought they had. At least they'd had a life together, they'd raised a family… they'd been happy. Somehow, the real truth was so much more bearable than the truth she had believed for all those years – that Fiyero had been beaten to death in that cornfield, for reasons she had not possibly been able to understand, without ever having lived a proper life. He'd still gone too early, but it was different now.

"Do _you _believe they're together?" she heard Rosey asking Glinda. "Mum didn't believe in an afterlife…"

Glinda smiled widely, remembering her friend. "I know. She never did. But I think Fiyero believed for two," she said honestly. "And I do believe that they're together now, wherever they are. Your mother wasn't always right about everything, you know. I mean, she was right about a _lot _of things," she acknowledged, "but not about everything."

Rosey chuckled.

"I believe it, too," she said after a while.

Glinda leant down to press a kiss to the girl's sandy hair.

"You know what?" she said softly. "I may not have seen them in over thirty years, but I knew them so well… I think despite everything, I still do know them. And I think they would be very proud of you today." She looked at the others. "All three of you."

Bae smiled and Rosey leant back against Glinda's legs. Nora, still sitting on the couch with her husband, nodded.

"You know?" she said with a thoughtful look on her face – a look that was so familiar that Glinda felt a pang at the sight of it. "I think so, too."

"Do you think they're here right now?" Rosey whispered.

Elphia nodded firmly. "They wouldn't want to miss any Lurlinemas with you guys," she said firmly.

Glinda stroked her daughter's hair. "I think you're right, honey." She looked up at the ceiling, as if expecting to see Elphaba and Fiyero descending from the sky to wish them all a happy Lurlinemas.

Lori imagined them being present, keeping an eye on their children. She couldn't really picture Elphaba, but she could picture Fiyero. She imagined his lopsided grin, the way he would look at his children; and for a moment, she almost swore she could actually feel their presence in the room – but that was probably just an old lady being a little crazy, she thought to herself, shaking her head.

They were all quiet for a while, none of them feeling the need to say anything as a certain kind of peace descended on the room.


End file.
